Xia Yiyang had always had a question that he’d been too embarrassed to ask Sheng Lin—when winter came, what would the ice powder shop sell?
Even though he knew the ice powder shop was just Sheng Lin’s side business, he still worried anxiously that the little shop might go under. If it did, then this household would have to be supported by Boss Xia alone!
As the first freezing rain of winter fell and Rongcheng’s temperature wobbled down below ten degrees, Xia Yiyang finally got his answer.
Turns out, ice powder could be hot!
Even though the name had “ice” in it, ice powder was actually made from the coagulated mucus of ice powder seeds and wasn’t particularly temperature-sensitive. In summer, it was chilled in the fridge for a refreshing, cooling treat; in winter, it could be served in warm water with brown sugar syrup—also a lovely dessert.
Besides ice powder, the shop also added winter essentials like lotus root starch, black sesame paste, almond peanut milk, and silver ear pear stew. Business grew even more prosperous.
Not long ago, Sheng Lin had also taken over a shop near the south gate and opened a branch.
The shop was too busy to handle, so Auntie Zhao and Auntie Li were sent to the branch as head and deputy managers. Sheng Lin also partnered with Rongda’s student affairs office to hire a few students from less privileged families to work part-time at the shop.
The south gate shop only had one floor, so Sheng Lin and Xia Yiyang still lived in the two-story building on the north gate snack street.
Business was booming, and schoolwork kept them busy.
Before they knew it, Xia Yiyang’s first semester at Rongda had quietly drawn to a close.
As the year-end approached, the streets were filled with Christmas spirit—but for Chinese people, there was one occasion even more important than Christmas: the Winter Solstice.
In the north, people ate dumplings; in the south, they ate tangyuan (sweet glutinous rice balls). Sheng Lin had specially added sweet tangyuan to the delivery menu for that day, and sure enough, they were busy from morning till night without a moment’s rest.
After class, Xia Yiyang rushed over to the shop to help, afraid that Sheng Lin might run himself ragged.
The moment he stepped inside, before he’d even had time to take off his scarf, he asked in a fluster: “Is there anything I can help with?”
“Oh, the little boss is back!”
“Our ‘boss-lady’ is done with class?”
The part-timers in the shop teased him.
All the part-time students were Rongda alumni, and young people were sharp. It didn’t take them more than a few days on the job to figure out that Xia Yiyang and Sheng Lin’s relationship was anything but ordinary.
Xia Yiyang cheerfully accepted all the nicknames—”little boss,” “boss-lady,” and the like. After all, they weren’t wrong. He’d been dating Sheng Lin for so long now, what was there to be shy about?
Hearing the part-timers’ teasing, Sheng Lin came out from the kitchen, took Xia Yiyang’s backpack and coat, and hung them on the nearby rack: “Nothing you need to help with. You came back at just the right time—I was about to close up.”
“Close up?” Xia Yiyang was a little money-lover, and he jumped at that: “But it’s the Winter Solstice today! Business is so good!”
“You can’t earn all the money in the world.” Sheng Lin said. “It’s going to get cold tonight. Let them head back to the dorms early.”
Sheng Lin closed the shop as soon as he said he would. Before the part-timers left, he packed a serving of lamb soup for each of them to take back to the dorm. Heavy on the meat and light on the broth, steaming hot and substantial—enough for an entire dorm room to share.
One part-timer from out of town didn’t understand: “Why are we eating lamb today?”
“This is a Sichuan tradition!” The other part-timers chimed in. “The Winter Solstice is the perfect time for nourishment.”
“Major nourishment!”
“Lamb soup is the best for boosting your qi and blood!”
“After eating it, your whole body feels warm. But don’t eat too much—or you won’t be able to sleep at night.”
“Sometimes it even gives you nosebleeds!”
…
In Sichuan, every Winter Solstice meant eating lamb hotpot.
In a steaming bowl of rich broth sat large chunks of lamb ribs, simmered with white and red radishes until they fell apart at the gentlest poke of chopsticks. The soup was thick and savory, the lamb so tender it slipped right off the bone. Add a few sweet potato noodles into the mix, and it was better than anything the gods could offer.
In the living room of the two-story building, Xia Yiyang sat cross-legged on the carpet. The lamb hotpot on the coffee table bubbled away in front of him. He stared at the portable stove with burning intensity, asking every half a minute: “Ling Ge, can we eat yet?” “Ling Ge, is the meat done?” “Ling Ge, when can we add the pea shoots?”
Sheng Lin reminded him: “You’re a ‘yang’ (sun), and it’s a ‘yang’ (sheep)—same root, so—”
“—same fate of being pan-fried!” Xia Yiyang finished the joke.
Little sheep were so wonderful—they could be pan-fried, stewed, spicy, crispy… Just thinking about it made the young man drool.
Sheng Lin poked the lamb in the pot with his chopsticks—the tip sank right in, meaning it was fully cooked: “The lamb is ready. The ribs need a little longer.”
The next second, Xia Yiyang’s chopsticks flew like a blur, snatching up a piece, dipping it into the sauce, and taking a big bite. He exclaimed: “Bashi de hen!” (So delicious!)
The stewed lamb had no gamey taste at all—just rich, mouth-filling fragrance. A thin layer of skin clung to the moderately fatty meat, tender and smooth, absolutely divine.
After eating his fill, Xia Yiyang picked up a piece for Sheng Lin: “Eat up! Make yourself at home. Don’t be shy with me!”
Sheng Lin raised an eyebrow: “Thank you. I’ll treat this place like my own home.”
To return the favor for the young man’s “hospitable treatment,” Sheng Lin poured him a glass of wine.
The wine was homemade.
Back in the height of summer, Sheng Lin had specially selected some good-looking bayberries, soaked them in baijiu, sealed them in heat-sterilized glass jars, and stored them in the fridge to brew.
Those jars of bayberry wine had been brewing from the Beginning of Summer all the way to the Winter Solstice, and today was their grand opening.
Bayberry wine, lamb hotpot, and a Xia Yiyang—this Winter Solstice was quite the lively affair.
Though it was a fruit wine, the alcohol content wasn’t low. Xia Yiyang took a sip like a kitten lapping water—the sweet fruitiness bloomed on his tongue, slowly giving way to the rich depth of baijiu.
“So good!” The young man was delighted and quickly took another sip.
The wine had just come out of the fridge, but it felt warm going down—a spicy warmth that spread from his throat through his limbs, making him shake his head involuntarily.
When Sheng Lin saw him going for a third sip, he reached over and took it away: “Don’t overdo it. Even though it’s a fruit wine, it’s still brewed with baijiu. You’ve never had hard liquor before—drinking like this will get you drunk.”
“Always treating me like a kid,” Xia Yiyang grumbled.
But there was nothing he could do—Sheng Lin was in charge, so he just went back to eating lamb.
Lamb was good—lamb was nourishing. It made the diamond-hard man (himself) feel all warm inside, a rush of heat charging recklessly through his body, surging up to his head and then down to…
After the chunks of lamb were finished, the ribs were perfectly tender too. Sheng Lin picked a piece with a bit of cartilage for him—that part was the most satisfying, making a satisfying crunch between his teeth.
Xia Yiyang was eating so happily that when he bit down, the juices from the lamb rib “ambushed” him. He flinched at the heat, dropped the rib in a panic, and fanned his mouth frantically with his hand.
His tongue peeked out, bright red from the burn. He glanced at a cup of water on the table and, without thinking, grabbed it and downed it in one gulp.
But as the “water” went down his throat, a burning explosion went off in his head. Only then did Xia Yiyang realize—what he’d drunk wasn’t water at all, but that glass of bayberry wine!
Sheng Lin quickly steadied him: “How do you feel? Dizzy? Do you feel like throwing up?”
Xia Yiyang held his head and rapidly recited: “One times one is one, two times two is four, three times three is nine… A B C D E F G… Zhao Qian Sun Li, Zhou Wu Zheng Wang… Hydrogen Helium Lithium Beryllium Boron…”
He was clear-headed and energized. Turned out bayberry wine wasn’t that intoxicating after all.
Sheng Lin: “Normal people don’t prove they’re not drunk by reciting the periodic table.”
Xia Yiyang: “I’m really not drunk! Test me if you don’t believe me!”
Sheng Lin: “What’s the cube root of 3148?”
Xia Yiyang: “…”
Sheng Lin: “You can’t answer. You’re drunk.”
“I couldn’t answer that even if I wasn’t drunk!” Xia Yiyang protested. “No, give me another one!”
Sheng Lin: “Here’s an easy one: ‘The road to Shu is steep, steeper than climbing to the sky’—what’s the next line?”
Xia Yiyang: “I know! ‘Can Cong and Yufu, founding a kingdom in a daze!’”
“Wrong,” Sheng Lin said. “It’s ‘Makes one’s rosy face turn pale with fright.’”
Xia Yiyang: “I quoted the first half! You’re quoting the second half!”
Sheng Lin switched questions: “Everyone knows the first word in the dictionary is ‘abandon’—what’s the next one?”
Xia Yiyang: “…You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”
“Can’t do math, got literature wrong, forgot English too—” the man chuckled. “Xia Yiyi, you’re drunk. Time to go to bed.”
The next second, Sheng Lin bent down and scooped Xia Yiyang off the carpet entirely.
Xia Yiyang, suddenly losing his balance and finding himself airborne, let out a yelp and wrapped his arms around Sheng Lin’s neck, hanging completely in the man’s embrace.
“Sheng! Lin!” Xia Yiyang, whether from the alcohol or pure indignation, his whole face flushed bright red. He buried his head and bit down on Sheng Lin’s shoulder, not calling him “brother” anymore, but protesting: “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re planning—you bastard!”
“That’s right,” Sheng Lin let him bite, feeling the sharp sting on his shoulder. “I’m a complete bastard.”
His hand supported the young man beneath his bottom, bouncing him up slightly: “Such a plump little lamb. Today’s the Winter Solstice—why not roast it up and eat it?”
The young man sulked in silence, but his arms tightened around Sheng Lin’s neck and refused to let go.
After a long pause, he suddenly let out a bizarre: “Baa~”
Sheng Lin: “…?”
Seeing that Sheng Lin didn’t get it, the young man accused him of being unromantic.
He had to lift his head and look at Sheng Lin, red-faced: “I’m drunk, so I’m a sheep now—baa baa baa! What are you going to do to this poor little sheep? Pan-fry it? Stir-fry it? The poor little sheep can’t fight back at all!”
Sheng Lin couldn’t help but laugh. He lowered his head and kissed the little sheep in his arms, coaxing him: “So, is the little sheep agreeing to let me eat it?”
Xia Yiyang’s eyes darted: “Actually, it could be the other way around! Think about it—my name has a ‘one’ in it, and your name has a ‘zero’…”
Sheng Lin interrupted him: “Xia Yiyi, you really are drunk—you can’t even tell your front and back nasal sounds apart anymore.”
Xia Yiyang pouted. Though he knew his chances of topping were slim, losing that quickly was just too embarrassing.
They’d been living together for nearly half a year now. The two pillows on the bed had long since become one—Xia Yiyang woke up in Sheng Lin’s arms almost every day.
Whether before bed or in the morning, they’d always have their clingy moments. Especially in winter, when Xia Yiyang hated the cold and would actively press himself against Sheng Lin, asking for kisses and cuddles—but whenever things actually heated up, he’d get cold feet.
Sheng Lin had always respected him. If Xia Yiyang wasn’t ready, Sheng Lin never pushed.
Most of the time, it was just the young man using his hands; at most, the young man would turn his back, press his thighs together, and the soft flesh between them was enough to satisfy.
Sheng Lin would be lying if he said he didn’t want more, and Xia Yiyang would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared.
That final step still lay ahead.
Today’s steaming lamb hotpot, that sweet and fiery bayberry wine, and this drunken Xia Yiyang in his arms—that was the best gift the Winter Solstice could offer.
The alcohol simmered in his blood, heat pulsing at his heart. Xia Yiyang let himself sink into this night, into the soft bed, into his lover’s embrace.
Sheng Lin gently asked if he wanted the lights off.
“No.” His fingertips traced lines down the man’s back. “I want to look at you. I want to remember this winter.”
…
They’d met and fallen in love in summer, walked hand in hand through autumn, and now stepped together into this warm winter.
Winter would eventually pass, and spring was never far behind.
Xia Yiyang had once said he would be Sheng Lin’s four seasons.
And he kept his word.
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